Begin Again

by Sarah Sanders

  I blush, “I was going to call you,” I mumble.

  She takes off her shades, drops the act and hugs me warmly, “Congratulations. I can’t be happier for you.” She goes to Betha and hugs her too whispering something in her ears.

  I am certain apart from congratulations she is also issuing all sorts of dire warnings and promising to do horrible, horrible things to Betha if she doesn’t make me happy and keep me happy.

  Betha responds solemnly.

  “Bethy, I promise you I will protect you from Tay if she ever comes for you,” I get into Tay’s unscripted play with gusto.

  “Kat, I love you,” Joy’s quiet tones break in, “But if you ever go for Tay, well…remember she’s mine.” Joy hugs me with her own congratulations.

  Betha comes up behind me, hugs me and says in sotto voce so that everyone can hear, “Have you told them that I’ve been into martial arts since middle school?”

  Everyone laughs good-naturedly.

  “Long years in martial arts…I wish you longer years in marital arts,” Tay winks at both of us.

  I lead them to the guest bedroom to freshen up before dinner. “The room is sound-proofed,” I whisper to Tay and she looks back at me, her eyes dancing.

  We stay in because no restaurant can compete with Anita’s culinary magic anyway. Over dinner they ask us about how we met and we both give our versions. I am enthralled to learn how Betha saw me through all those early days of our re-meeting. She saw me as a strong but vulnerable girl. Always outrageously hot – right since high school. She tells us how hard she fought against herself to keep away from me and lost. She just couldn’t resist me and was willing to have me in her life in any capacity. “If Kat hadn’t taken the first step when she did, I think I would have combusted in the next couple of days,” she laughs.

  We‘ve got our own carrom board and introduce them to the simple pleasures of the game. They are as taken by it as we are and it is a thoroughly fun-filled evening. Music, laughter, carrom, wine, great food, wonderful company.

  When we retire for the night – they in the guest room and we in ours – I am sure we all have sparked each other so much that we all continue our evening into the wee hours of the morning.

  Did I mention that we have had our room sound-proofed? Yeah, we did. It was something of a necessity given the way I am when we are making love.

  For a good measure, Betha had even sound-proofed the guest room. I am sure Tay appreciates that – I do remember the night of her party in her garden. I am sure she was exerting as much control that night as I was to keep from screaming the guests away. I’m glad I told her about the sound-proofing already.

  ******

  Saturday morning has been lazy for all of us. It is late morning and we are all lounging around in the living room in shorts and pjs. Of course, Tay and Joy are in designer clothes – everything they own is bespoke designer, designed by one of the hottest stars in the world from that profession – so they look extremely elegant. By contrast, Betha and I look rumpled and very, very comfortable.

  “How’s work?” Tay asks casually.

  I exchange a glance with Betha. Though Tay has asked it casually, there is a weight of seriousness underlying the question.

  “Ummm…the usual, you know,” I respond. “I did get promoted finally last year…but since then nothing. In fact, I’d have thought that the promotion would get me more challenging work and clients, instead I seem to be mostly reviewing others’ work.”

  “Kat,” Tay leans forward towards me, “how many clients are you handling now?”

  I sense that she is getting somewhere. This is the real reason for her surprising visit.

  “I had a lot but in the past five weeks or so, the number has eased up.” I pause, thinking…and am shocked by a realisation, “I think the number of clients I am handling has gone down by fifty percent,” I don’t bother to keep the shock out of my voice.

  I knew I was a babe-in-the-woods about office politics, but this is like being blind. And too trusting. Way too trusting. My belief in fairness is totally misplaced and unjustified.

  I’ve just been boxed in my solar plexus and lost all my ability to breathe. How did I not realise this? How did I not see it?

  “Really?” Bethy asks…her surprise also evident. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”

  “I didn’t realise it before just now,” I say, turning towards her, confused with this knowledge about my work.

  “Are you out at work, sweetie?” Tay asks me gently.

  “Yes…in the sense, ever since I got engaged. It never came up before that. Franklin came to congratulate me and asked me who ‘he’ was and I told him ‘he’ was a ‘she’.”

  “Kat, I don’t know how to couch this for you…I don’t know how to sweeten this bitter pill…trust me, if I could in any way, I would,” Tay looks quite enraged. Her angry face is a study of the description of someone looking much more beautiful in anger. “Franklin has been calling all your clients and introducing new managers to them. They haven’t been giving any explanations about why you are not handling their accounts any more. I got the call on Thursday.”

  Tay has met my other clients during the client parties that Franklin throws. In fact a lot of our client come via word-of-mouth, so Tay is in fact, responsible for almost eighteen top clients that we have. She must’ve got in touch with them and found out whether they’d also got these calls. I am utterly floored by Tay’s loyalty and integrity towards her relationships. Joy is indeed an unusually lucky woman.

  “What does that mean?” I am sinking, floundering. I grab Betha’s thigh as she comes and sits beside me.

  “It means that Franklin is not embracing the rainbow,” Joy says flatly.

  “What? I am being systematically and deliberately side-lined because I love the most wonderful person I have ever met?” my voice is close to a shriek.

  “We’ll sue,” Bethy states.

  “You can’t, honey,” Tay says sadly. “There is nothing they have done outright. There is no way you can prove the discrimination despite knowing it.”

  “Besides, it is a long battle with a lot of unsavoury publicity,” Joy adds.

  “I’m not sure I’d even want to go back to work in a place that measures my ability by my sexuality,” I say in a small voice.

  “But we can’t let them get away with this,” I have never seen Betha this angry. “First they delayed your promotion because of your sex and now they are crushing you because of your sexuality. You deserve better, princess…and nobody is allowed to treat you like this and get away with it.” She is fuming.

  “I agree that she deserves better,” Tay interjects. “Kat, the last time I made an offer to you it was because I thought you were capable of way more than what Franklin can offer you. My offer still stands – exactly for the same reason. Do think about it, sweetie.”

  I am hyperventilating. I need space. I need time. “Excuse me,” I say, getting up, “Please gimme some time.” Betha makes eye contact with me and I give a small shake of my head so that she knows I need to be absolutely alone for a little while.

  This is rare between us, but because my childhood left me to handle my emotions by myself, there are some – very few now – time when I need to be alone to process and get a handle. Betha knows that I will come to her soon…real soon.

  I go into our bedroom and just stare blankly into space for a while. I don’t know how long I sit there without conscious thought letting my subconscious and unconscious do their thing. This is how it works with me. I don’t let things churn actively. In times like these, I fall asleep. When I get up, things are clearer for me. Without meaning to – since we have company – I fall asleep.

  I don’t know how long I sleep, but at some point, Bethy joins me in bed, wrapping herself around me. I welcome the feel of her without getting up. It is possible that they had lunch and decided on an afternoon siesta since I had just disappeared on them.

  ******

  The
sun is in the western sky when we go out to join our guests. Thankfully, Tay and Joy are the most low-maintenance people and the best friends anyone could wish for. They are perfectly at ease playing carrom – quite disastrously, I should add – but having a whale of a time. Anita and Ravi have been looking after them faultlessly.

  Betha and I walk in holding hand. I am already apologising profusely.

  “Hey…you gave us free run of your home,” Tay waves away my apologies, “It’s like being at a sibling’s home,” she smiles.

  “In fact, we were just arguing which of us is going to stake claim on making one of you our sister,” Joy adds laconically. “You get to choose…remember, I am less drama.”

  “But I will bring with me all the sisterly bickering,” Tay pokes her tongue out at Joy and bats her eyelids at us giving us her best ‘pick me’ look.

  Betha and I laugh – all the guilt of having left them to their own devices melting away in face of their warmth. I go over and hug Tay while Joy smiles at us.

  They leave their game and we settle into a comfortable circle in the living room. Anita brings us her to-die-for cold coffee and some exotic roasted Indian snacks.

  They wait expectantly to hear what I have to say. Betha and I have already had a long talk about this.

  “I cannot stay with Franklin for even one more day,” I say feeling a little sad. I did spend many years in this organisation and have many, many friends there. It was a part of my life for over a decade. “I’ve decided to resign on Monday. I have enough unused leave left, so I can probably get a waiver of serving my two-weeks’ notice period.” I hate dragging things out and hope this happens and I don’t have to wait two more weeks to get done with this company.

  “And then?” Tay has not become so successful by sitting on decisions. She is an action-oriented person.

  “Tay, I cannot join you full time,” I say. I look at Betha, “My life is here.”

  “Of course,” she says.

  “But I think I will branch out on my own.”

  Tay claps her hands in happiness. “I was hoping you’d say that. I am firing Franklin on Tuesday. Let me know about your notice period so I know how soon I can formally shift to your company.”

  “Any ideas for names?” Joy asks.

  “Pride,” I smile, “Pride Financial Services and Business Advisory.”

  They both laugh and we join in the laughter.

  “I’m going to design your logo and your business cards,” Joy states with finality. One of the top artists of the world is going to design my logo…wow! This is like Leonardo Da Vinci or Michelangelo or Picasso or Van Gogh designing my logo and card. I cannot insult the love coming from both of them by even thinking about offering to pay for her art.

  “Seriously?!” Betha asks with awe, “Can I have your doodles?” she is totally fangirling. This is complete cuteness overload and I have to – just have to – lean over and kiss her cheek.

  We talk late into the night. I look at these three wonderful women surrounding me with love and just like that, all my childhood scars are healed.

  I am wanted.

  I am supported.

  I am loved.

  ******

  Tay and Joy leave early Sunday morning.

  I drive to office on Monday in my Maserati. I am dressed to the nines in one of the designer formals that Betha had gifted me. Ravi has accompanied me and is in the parking waiting for me to call him so that he can pack my things. I am making loud non-verbal statements to Franklin about how little they matter to me.

  I am in very early. I walk into my office, for what I hope is the last time, before anyone else gets in. I boot my computer and send my resignation mail to Franklin with a cc to Eleanor, our CHRO.

  Less than three minutes later, Eleanor calls. “You’ve resigned,” her voice is pitched really high. “Why?”

  “Personal reasons,” I say calmly.

  She scoffs. “Kat, I may be the CHRO but we are friends. What’s up? Tell me the truth. You’re not the kind of person to up and leave without a good reason. I know how committed you are. Tell me,” she says gently.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. She is right. We are friends. But I cannot tell her in company time. I cannot tell her before my resignation has been accepted. “El, can we take about this after my resignation is accepted? Ideally after I finish my last day?”

  “As per your mail, you want today to be your last day,” she is almost accusatory. And I understand it. As my friend she feels I have left her out. In fact, I realise, I am going to have quite a few ruffled friend feathers within the company when this gets out.

  “Please El…I promise full disclosure,” I beg for understanding.

  “Okay…are you in office already?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty.” She knows there is nothing she can really do since I have dug in my heels but just wants to be there for me. With me. My heart warms at the thought.

  We hang up and the extension on my desk rings. It’s Franklin. “Katrina, we need to talk asap. Can you meet me in office in half an hour?” His tone is far from devastated at losing me.

  “Sure,” I reply, “I am already in office, so I’m ready whenever you are.”

  ******

  El is with me when Franklin comes in so he asks her to be a part of what seems to be a mere formality of a meeting. There is a current of relief flowing through him.

  “This is rather abrupt and unexpected,” he says, really only saying it for the heck of it. There is no tangible need for him to retain me. “What brought this on?”

  My temper tips over at his hypocrisy. I was seething at him all through the weekend – but this? This falseness and formality lights my fuse, which is short at the best of times. And right now, at this moment, in these circumstances that he has created – it is so not the best of times. “I am getting married to Bethany soon,” I deliberately rub his nose into my life choice which has been so unacceptable to him, “So I would like to take a sabbatical.”

  “You could take an unpaid sabbatical and come back when you’ve settled in, Kat,” El speaks up, “You are by far the best analyst Franklin has ever had.”

  I give her a pointed look, “I’m thrilled to hear you say that, but no…I would like to start life anew.” I am asking her to shut up with my eyes and with my body language. In fact I am bombarding her with mental rays to get the message and keep out of this conversation. Thankfully, she gets the message.

  Franklin spends some time discussing handover. He knows how organised my work is and knows that everything is handover-ready. After all, he has been slimily handing over my work to others behind my back for almost five weeks now. But we decide that I’ll have a meeting with the other five Senior Partners and Franklin in the first half of the day and do a formal handover.

  I am going to be free by the end of the day. I feel my heart dancing with delight.

  ******

  By the time I am returning to my cabin, the work day has started and everyone is in. A lot of people have their eyes popping at my look and I get compliments every half step. Those who are closer to me than the others (and there are many of them…again something that I am appreciating just now) actually wolf whistle. They are treating me like some glamourous star, and I am internally totally basking in the attention.

  I take my laptop and go into the conference room for the handover meeting. It lasts three hours to answer all questions but even Franklin is satisfied that there is no information I am withholding. Doesn’t he know me at all? Like I would ever not share. That is just not my style.

  As soon as I wind up the meeting and the other partners have left the conference room, I hand over my laptop to Franklin right there. I am making it obvious that I want to be done with this company pronto…and I don’t think he misses my message.

  I walk out of the conference room with a spring in my step. There is an unmistakable buzz in the air. My resignation has leaked out and I am trending again
– the second time in the day – but for a completely different reason.

  I quickly rush to my cabin and call Ravi to pack up my things and take them away. Ravi arrives…and now I am trending for having personal help to take care of my packing.

  While Ravi is packing up my personal belongings, I go to Eleanor to hand over my cabin and drawer keys and my company ID card. She takes them wordlessly. “Six o’clock, Madira?” is all she asks, naming the most popular bar in town.

  “You got it,” I say.

  I go to say my goodbyes to my friends. I cite ‘personal reasons’ to everyone who asks, but am fooling no one. They all know something must’ve triggered my action.